The silence was what woke her up.
Not the peaceful kind. The strange kind that felt too heavy, like the world was waiting for something.
She opened her eyes.
The first thing she saw was a ceiling she didn't recognize.
It wasn't white. It wasn't cracked. It wasn't low.
It was high, decorated with patterns she didn't recognise.
She stared at it for a long time without moving.
"…This is new."
Her voice sounded smaller than she expected.
She turned her head slightly.
The bed was too big. The sheets were too clean. The curtains were dark and thick, blocking most of the light.
Nothing here felt familiar.
Her chest tightened.
Did I… go to a hotel?
No. She would remember that.
Did someone bring me here?
That thought made her stomach sink.
She tried to sit up, and a dull ache answered in her head.
"…Great."
She pressed her fingers to her temple and waited for the dizziness to pass.
Her memory felt… messy.
The last clear thing she remembered was lying in bed, reading. Thinking too much. Like always.
She had that habit—getting too attached to stories. Especially the ones that wasn't like the real her. The ones where the main character was loud and brave and bright.
She always ended up liking the strange characters more tho.
The side characters. The ones everyone misunderstood.
She pushed the thought away and looked around again.
This room didn't look modern.
Not old in a broken way. Old in a… expensive way.
Everything looked taken care of. Too much, even.
"…This seriously isn't funny."
She slowly got out of bed.
Her legs felt fine. The floor was cold.
She walked toward the window and pulled the curtain just a little.
Outside, she saw a garden.
Big. Too big.
Trimmed hedges. Stone paths. A fountain.
This is definitely not my neighborhood.
Her heart started beating faster again.
She turned away from the window just as she heard footsteps.
A knock.
Then the door opened before she could answer.
A woman in a maid's uniform walked in, carrying a tray.
"…You're awake," the maid said.
Her tone was calm. Not kind. Not rude.
Just… professional.
The girl froze.
"…Who are you?" she asked.
The maid blinked.
"…My lady?"
That was not the answer she expected.
"…I think there's been a mistake," she said slowly. "I don't—"
"You've been saying strange things since yesterday," the maid interrupted. "The doctor said you were just exhausted."
Doctor.
Yesterday.
Her confusion only grew.
"…What's my name?" she asked quietly.
The maid looked at her in a way that was half confusion, half concern.
"…Elysia Ravenline, of course."
The name hit her harder than she expected.
Not because she recognized it.
But because it sounded… wrong.
Too fancy. Too story-like.
"…I see," she said, even though she didn't.
The maid placed the tray down.
"…You should eat. I'll inform them that you're awake."
"…Them?"
But the maid was already leaving.
The door closed.
The room felt too big again.
She sat down on the edge of the bed.
Elysia Ravenline.
She repeated the name in her head.
It didn't feel like hers.
She looked down at herself.
Simple nightclothes. Soft. Clearly expensive.
"…Okay," she muttered. "Let's assume I lost my memory and not my mind."
She stood up again and slowly explored the room.
Everything was neat. Too neat. Too perfectly placed.
Then she noticed something.
There were no personal items.
No pictures. No messy desk. No signs of hobbies.
It was a room that looked like it belonged to someone who didn't… live in it.
Someone who was only staying here.
Or someone no one really cared to know.
That thought made her chest feel a little tight.
She stopped in front of a mirror—
And hesitated.
For a second, she didn't want to look.
Then she did.
Long black hair. Pale skin. And eyes that were a little too big, a little too dark—sleepy-looking, with a faint red shine hidden deep inside.
Not sharp. Not cold.
Just quiet.
"…That's… me?"
She didn't feel like a different person.
She felt like herself.
Just… placed somewhere else.
A knock came again.
This time, a different maid came in.
"…My lady, Lady Mariette is asking to see you."
"…Who?"
The maid looked at her strangely.
"…Your cousin."
Cousin.
Another word that didn't belong to her.
"…Tell her I'll come later," she said.
The maid nodded and left.
She sat down again.
Elysia Ravenline. A noble family. A cousin named Mariette.
None of this meant anything to her.
And yet…
Something about the name felt… heavy.
Like it came with a reputation.
She didn't know why she thought that.
She just did.
She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling again.
"…Whatever this is," she whispered, "it's not a dream."
And for some reason…
She had a bad feeling that this "Elysia Ravenline"…
…wasn't someone people liked.
⸻
She stayed in her room for a while after that.
Too long, maybe.
The name stayed in her head.
Elysia Ravenline.
It felt… uncomfortable. Not painful. Just heavy. Like it carried things she didn't know yet.
She tried saying it quietly.
"…Elysia."
It didn't sound like her.
But when the maid called her that…
…she still answered.
"…This is ridiculous," she muttered. "I'm probably just sick."
She stood up and walked toward the door.
She didn't know what she was supposed to do, but staying in that room was making her more nervous.
She opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
It was big. Quiet. Too elegant.
And she was still wearing her nightgown.
She didn't think about that until—
"…My lady!"
The same maid from earlier hurried toward her.
"…You shouldn't be walking around like this. Please, come back inside and change."
"…Oh. Right. Sorry."
The maid didn't look angry. Just… tired.
She led her back to the room.
"…You've really changed after your fever," the maid said quietly. "You used to stay in your room all day."
"…Did I?"
The maid glanced at her but didn't answer.
Instead, she walked to a large wardrobe and opened it.
Inside—
Rows of dresses.
For a second, she just stood there.
They were… beautiful.
Not in a bright, colorful way.
But in a quiet, careful way.
Dark colors. Soft fabric. Lace. Long sleeves. Wide skirts.
They looked like dresses meant for someone who liked shadows more than sunlight.
Her chest tightened a little.
"…These are mine?"
"Yes, my lady."
She slowly reached out and touched one.
She didn't know why, but she felt something strange.
I always liked things like this.
She had. She just never…
"…I never could," she whispered.
She didn't know why she said it.
But the thought came naturally.
She chose a simple black dress.
Not the fanciest one. Not the plainest one either.
When she finished changing, she looked… normal.
Too normal.
Like she had always belonged there.
That scared her a little.
⸻
The maid walked with her through the halls.
"…Before we go in," the maid said, "I should remind you…"
She hesitated.
"…At the table will be Lord Ravenline. Your father."
Father.
"…Also Lady Ravenline."
Mother.
"…And Lady Mariette. Your cousin."
Cousin.
"…Please don't argue with them today," the maid added quietly.
"…Do I usually?" she asked.
The maid didn't answer right away.
"…Sometimes."
That was enough to make her nervous.
⸻
The dining room was big.
Too big.
They were already there when she walked in.
A man sitting at the head of the table he had dark blue hair and similar eyes to her he also looked sharp and cold .
He didn't look at her at first.
A woman beside him she had short black hair with sky blue eyes and looked a little tired..,quiet and distant.
And a girl about her age her hair was long,wavy, had the colour of honey kind of,she had beautiful purple eyes she thought they look a lot like amethyst, sitting straight, watching her carefully.
"…You're late," the man said.
His voice was calm. Cold, but not loud.
"…Sorry," she said.
She wasn't sure what else to say.
She sat down in her seat.
The moment she did, she felt it.
The looks.
Not open hostility. Not kindness either.
Just… observation.
Like they were checking if she was the same person as before.
The food was placed in front of her.
She looked at it. Then at theirs.
It was similar. But not the same.
Her plate was… simpler.
She didn't comment on it.
She just started eating.
Halfway through, she realized—
They were using different utensils. Different order. Different pace.
She copied them quietly.
"…It seems your illness took more than just your strength," her father said.
She looked up.
"…You've forgotten your table manners."
The room went quiet.
She didn't know what to say.
Illness. Fever. Yesterday.
"…I'm sorry," she said finally.
His eyes stayed on her for a second longer than necessary.
Then he looked away.
"…See that you remember them soon."
She nodded.
And kept eating.
She was about to leave after finishing her food but lord Ravenline stopped her saying
"Before you leave just remember that you will need to get ready for the winter rose ball"
She nodded quietly before leaving to her room.
But inside, her mind was loud.
Who are these people?
Who am I to them?
And what kind of person was "Elysia Ravenline" before I woke up?
What is this winter rose ball, and why does it sound so familiar?….
⸻
After dinner, she returned to her room.
Clara followed quietly, placing a tray for her to rest.
Elysia sat by the window again, looking at the fading sun.
The Winter Rose Ball…
The memory settled into her mind now, complete enough to be dangerous. Not just fragments, but a sense of the story, the event, the first meeting between the heroine and the male lead.
She remembered the chaos, the whispers, the missteps from the story she had read.
I can't… I won't let that happen again.
Her mind traced the ballroom in her imagination: the chandeliers, the music, the flowing dresses, the delicate steps, the careful manners.
This is where it all starts.
This is where I step in.
And this time… I will do it differently.
Her pulse quickened.
She could feel the tension of the story around her, hovering like a shadow.
Every glance, every word, every motion… must be measured.
The first meeting will define everything.
And as she touched the fabric of her dress, so soft and dark against her skin, she allowed herself a small, quiet thought:
I will not be careless.
I will not repeat mistakes.
I will choose.
I will survive.
The night fell, heavy and quiet, but for the first time, Elysia Ravenline felt… awake.
The story is alive.
But so am I.